My Birthday Cult (Take a Number, Please)
Hello Gentle Readers,
My fledgling "Cult of Personality" hit a snag. Here in West Virginia you have to register your Cult with the State Attorney Generals Office! When I went down Friday to register and pay the $15.00 filing fee, the place was packed. It was like going to Outback Steakhouse on a Saturday night! They even had this little"take-a-number-please" machine like at Ben & Jerry's! My number was 622. Wow, number 622! I asked number 621 how long she'd been there and she told me she had already eaten a Pizza Hut delivery pizza.
It's a good thing I'm a tough guy. They didn't even have chairs! All we aspiring Cult leaders just mingled and talked about our goals. Very, very interesting conversation, it was. My goals are fairly simple: money and women. But, some of these guys have much loftier ambitions. One wants us to "float" above our petty states of mind and commune with John Lennon. Another wants to play sitar music and sell flowers in the Wal Mart parking lot. Yet another wants us to worship the memory of Rock 'em-Sock 'em Robots. One guy had it in mind that we could sit in a circle outside of the General Motors Corporate Headquarters and pray for the return of the Z-28 Camaro (I kinda' like that one, myself).
Real nice folks, they were. In the end, we all agreed to join each other's Cults if all financial considerations were waived. Honorary members, so to speak.
Well, I my number was finally called. When I got to the counter I found out you had to have a sort of Cult "Domain" name. Mmmmm? I decided on the name "Divine Old Personality Experiment" (D.O.P.E.). The members will all be "Dopes".
Ya'll come on and join while the paint is fresh. tomvickers@suddenlink.net
My fledgling "Cult of Personality" hit a snag. Here in West Virginia you have to register your Cult with the State Attorney Generals Office! When I went down Friday to register and pay the $15.00 filing fee, the place was packed. It was like going to Outback Steakhouse on a Saturday night! They even had this little"take-a-number-please" machine like at Ben & Jerry's! My number was 622. Wow, number 622! I asked number 621 how long she'd been there and she told me she had already eaten a Pizza Hut delivery pizza.
It's a good thing I'm a tough guy. They didn't even have chairs! All we aspiring Cult leaders just mingled and talked about our goals. Very, very interesting conversation, it was. My goals are fairly simple: money and women. But, some of these guys have much loftier ambitions. One wants us to "float" above our petty states of mind and commune with John Lennon. Another wants to play sitar music and sell flowers in the Wal Mart parking lot. Yet another wants us to worship the memory of Rock 'em-Sock 'em Robots. One guy had it in mind that we could sit in a circle outside of the General Motors Corporate Headquarters and pray for the return of the Z-28 Camaro (I kinda' like that one, myself).
Real nice folks, they were. In the end, we all agreed to join each other's Cults if all financial considerations were waived. Honorary members, so to speak.
Well, I my number was finally called. When I got to the counter I found out you had to have a sort of Cult "Domain" name. Mmmmm? I decided on the name "Divine Old Personality Experiment" (D.O.P.E.). The members will all be "Dopes".
Ya'll come on and join while the paint is fresh. tomvickers@suddenlink.net
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